Batteries Not Included
by Sailor Taichichi Vegeta
Summary: Don't accept toy soldiers from drunk Britons who claim to know magic. Based on "The Nutcracker" with fem!America and our favorite commie. Rated for violence -the mice started it. Merry Christmas!


Batteries Not Included

(by Sailor Taichichi Vegeta)

Ladies, here's a fun project –search through some old recordings until you find a version of _The Nutcracker_ starring DAT BARYSHNIKOV~ Squee! And that lady… sadly, her name escapes me at the moment, but she's got mad skills –I used to have a chemistry class with somebody who sort of looked like her, she never had a problem on school picture day. ANYHOW, this isn't the most original Cold War or Christmas fic (or title) ever, but this is one of my favorite works by my favorite composer and I just couldn't let go of the silly idea I had. Sorry if I had to make the heroine such a (wo)man-child, but there's a mouse-toy battle to be won! (I didn't know if I should actually drop Ivan's name or not. I somehow felt that added to the dream-like quality. I also couldn't bring myself to do a costume change without it feeling, I don't know, forced.)

Disclaimer

It's Christmas, and I'll be lucky to own more than a lump of coal. XD

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><p>Arthur likes to get drunk on Christmas. He also likes to get drunk on New Year's Day, Lunar New Year, Three Kings' Day, Boxing Day, Saint Patrick's Day, May Day, Halloween… but none of that matters. What matters right now is that he's spent a good part of Christmas Eve boozing it up and making a fool out of himself at Abigail's Christmas party. She, like most everybody else there, finds the free show amusing, but unlike everybody else she's the only one who will have to replace a windowpane when the hardware store re-opens. She's still not quite sure how that happened.<p>

Arthur tries to make up for the property damage by presenting her with an old-fashioned nutcracker. It's dressed in a brightly colored uniform and carries a miniature wooden sword at its side, and probably shouldn't be used to crack any nuts. Arthur is extremely proud of the toy, as if he created the thing himself using the magical powers that everyone knows he doesn't have. Abigail cuts off his boasting by reminding him of the window, but secretly finds the gift pretty cool, and has trouble staying mad at him. Besides, it's not heroic to hold grudges.

She has to repeat that last sentence to herself over and over when slobbering, staggering, senseless Arthur breaks his second thing of hers that night. Luckily, because of the way it's made, the damaged piece of the nutcracker can be replaced without too much trouble, and held there with a bit of wood glue.

"You're my brave wounded veteran," Abigail says to it when no one is listening. She props it up on the sofa pillows, salutes it and falls asleep next to it trying to watch a Christmas special from 1964.

Several hours later she wakes up to find the channel off the air and the TV much, much larger, along with everything else in the room. She tries pinching and slapping herself in order to wake up, but when nothing happens Abigail has to decide between bounding across the cushions of her sofa as if they're a giant moonwalk and just climbing down. Fortunately, she's an athletic girl, so she picks the first option and heads for the end of the couch, intending to reach the phone on the end-table and call… somebody.

She's nearing the armrest when something heavy plows into her and knocks her over. Above her head, a gigantic walnut whizzes past and hits the sofa behind her. Although it does no damage to the fabric, Abigail doesn't doubt she would have fared much worse.

"Hey, thanks!"

The nutcracker –for that is her savior's identity –nods in reply, helps her up, and pulls her toward her goal while almonds fly around them. It… wait, oh, what the heck… _he_ crouches and cups his hands, indicating she should climb up onto the armrest. Abigail thanks him again, then does so and scrambles to the top. As she does she notices his sword is no longer made of wood.

From her new position she has a perfect view of the war zone that her living room has become. To her, the tree is now a garish mountain, and beneath it she can see her Wonder Woman statuette beating the tar out of some mice. (Well great, now she REALLY needs to get to the hardware store.) A pair of Ken and Ryu figures are standing back-to-back and doing pretty well against another group. The little pests are tough too; they've brought swords, spears and a couple of freaking _catapults_, which would explain the walnut projectile. It may be silly, but Abigail can't help but worry for her beloved to– action figures.

Still, she carries no weapon and is made of more sensitive stuff than plush or plastic, and so she decides the best thing she can do is get help. Her Canadian neighbor (his name escapes her at the moment) would be a good place to start, if he can be awakened… and made to believe. But she'll worry about that in a minute or two. Abigail gathers her courage and leaps from the armrest to the end-table, then dashes to the phone's charger and starts trying to get it free. Meanwhile, the nutcracker slides down the power cord and leaps into the fray.

The phone is a little bigger than Abigail's entire body, so once it's out of the charger she has to stomp on each button in order to dial the number she's never been so thankful to remember. Four of the digits have been dialed when one of the mice finds her –he's crawled right up the power cord, and of course he'd be one of the larger combatants. He's got the nerve to be wearing a golden mouse-sized crown and is carrying a wicked-looking sword, which he wastes no time in swinging at her. Abigail yelps and leaps back.

The nutcracker, bless his little wooden heart, hears her screaming and hurries to her aid. As he begins to shimmy up the cord, Abigail dodges the Mouse King's sword again, looking for the object she knows one of her guests left up here. She finds the toothpick lying flush against the charger and holds it up just in time to get the tip sliced clean off, so for a third time she's got to scramble out of the way of the blade. The nutcracker arrives not a moment too soon with his own weapon, and the two go at it like there's no tomorrow.

Soon, that dirty rodent decides to start exploiting his opponent's weakness and concentrates all his attacks on the side that Arthur broke. Abigail doesn't know how the combination of wood glue and magic works but guesses it won't end well for the nutcracker, so she grabs the first thing she can think of –one of her cherished alien slippers –and throws it at his head. Infuriated, the Mouse King turns and as he does Abigail stabs him with the undamaged end of her toothpick. Since this isn't enough to take care of him, the nutcracker comes up from behind and gets him right through the heart. Abigail quickly retrieves her slipper so it won't get bloody, and watches her new hero plant his boot against the royal rodent's back and pull his sword free. The sounds of battle subside, and the entire room looks up as he wipes the weapon clean on the furry body before sheathing it and kicking the vanquished off of the table.

It takes about a minute for the remaining invaders to flee; Abigail hopes they won't return, as that would save her some mousetrap money. The figures and plushies on the floor clap and cheer wildly for the two. GI Joe salutes her, and a wide grin breaks out on her face as she salutes him back.

"Thank you! Thank you, everybody!" she laughs, feeling like a total ham and loving every second of it as she waves to her toys. Then she remembers it wasn't all her doing; turning to look at the nutcracker, she finds in his place a tall (well, relatively speaking) man. His hair is silver, his nose is large but not unpleasantly so, and as he bows and kisses her hand she notices his eyes are a brilliant shade of violet.

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say? I don't understand…"

He repeats, in heavily-accented English this time, what a valiant lady she is and how he's extremely grateful for her assistance. One part of Abigail notes the Russian accent and cries "communist!" while another part of her also notes the accent and instead feels the need to point out how good he looks in his uniform. She says nothing as he leads her to the window, but begins to question his actions as he moves aside the plastic wrap covering the broken pane (it's a cheap and easy way to deal with the problem for the time being, so sue her).

"Wait a minute, what are you doing?"

He ignores her, and looks out into the cold snowy night and calls a name she doesn't recognize. As the wind starts to pick up and the snowflakes get larger he squeezes her hand tightly and jumps. Abigail scarcely has time to scream before they land on top of snow that isn't lying on the ground, but is flying through the air away from her house. Oddly enough, it's warmer than she expected it to be. When she voices this thought a nearby woman –when did she get there? when did all of these women show up? expresses her wish that Abigail enjoy the ride.

The ex-nutcracker, seated on the crystalline surface next to her, explains that the woman is one of his two sisters, and both of them are in the service of some wintry monarch or other. Abigail, tired after waking up so early and helping to win a war, is unable to listen as closely as she wishes to, but takes a genuine interest in what her partner in heroism has to say. He lets her rest her head on his shoulder as he talks about how his whole family used to be involved with the supernatural until a curse rebounded from one unfortunate young duke onto him and left him as that toy Arthur brought to her. His voice is nice, Abigail thinks as they move through the sky. She makes no move to stop him when he absent-mindedly begins to stroke her hair.

She jolts upright as she realizes they're no longer flying over any place she's familiar with. They're lower now, she can see towers and spires and palaces and bridges, every last one made of candy! There's a chocolate castle, a river with marzipan boats, a whole block of houses made of solid caramel. She looks up at her soldier, unable to hide her smile, and he pats her head and tells her to just wait.

They disembark at one particularly elaborate building –no, _group_ of buildings, and the nutcracker bids his sister good-bye before offering his arm to Abigail. Their arrival anticipated, they are warmly greeted there at the door and whisked away to a ballroom decorated for, well, a ball. The hostess, a bubbly blonde woman with sparkling green eyes, insists on giving both of them pecks on each cheek before guiding them to a pair of beautiful and comfortable seats.

When she turns, Abigail realizes she is a fairy. So is the polite brunette man who never leaves her side. (He seems to recognize the soldier with a gasp and a gulp, and for a second Abigail thinks she sees a malicious smirk on the latter's face.)

There is _amazing_ food, and dancers have come from all over the world to celebrate the pair's victory. Abigail marvels at how both the news and the dancers are able to travel so quickly, as well as why there's so much celebration over the death of a mouse, but then she remembers they're all about four inches high. It is worried that there will be no Arabian dance, due to the kingdom's representative being ill, but a Turkish man volunteers to entertain them all in his place. (He's not a bad-looking Turk either, but Abigail has the strange feeling that her soldier wouldn't be at all pleased if she were to say so.) Even her fellow hero takes an active role in the festivities, wearing a look of absolute bliss as he moves to the music of his home country.

Then he wants Abigail to dance with him. She stammers that she'd rather not. He smiles, bows and holds out his hand to her as if he hasn't heard.

The Sugar Plum Fairy likes this idea. Let the celebrated couple have the floor to themselves, she proclaims.

Well, Abigail's got a bit of food left on her plate. Shouldn't she at least be given the chance to finish it?

Her soldier plucks the morsel off the plate and feeds it to her right there in front of everybody. Then he sets down the plate and holds out his hand again.

Abigail swallows hard. Really, she's not even dressed for this sort of thing. Nobody dances in alien slippers and Superman PJs! Right?

His smile now strained, the former nutcracker turns to their hostess and asks if there is anything she can do for Abigail. She, looking just a touch embarrassed, nods and produces a wand. Seeing an honest-to-goodness magic wand makes Abigail think of how surreal it all is, and she tells the fairy that there's no need. She takes her soldier's arm and lets him lead her onto the floor, glad to see that his smile is back in earnest.

The way things have gone, she doesn't _really_ mind dancing like this after all.

And she doesn't really mind when she wakes up to find sunlight streaming through the living room window and the phone off the hook.

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><p>Merry Christmas, y'all! :D<p> 


End file.
